Brothers
by Murdough
Summary: Two brothers, separated by life and circumstance finally meet. Rated M for language


Hey, this is my first fanfic, so be gentle. I hope to continue this, so reviews, feedback and _constructive_ criticism are more than welcome.

**Disclaimer: **Aside from my two original characters, I own nothing here. I'm just adding my own tale to the universe George Lucas created for us.

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"You know, it damn near killed Mom when they took you," the man said, staring at the other individual sitting across from him. "Truth be told, I think it did. She wasn't quite the same after you left. Like a part of her was gone. The fact that contact was 'forbidden' didn't help matters any." He shook his head, taking a sip from his glass, the amber liquid burning his throat as it went down.

The two men sat at a small table in a crowded cantina, the other patrons milling around them. Some glanced at them curiously, noting the robes one wore. The robes of a Jedi Knight. The fact that someone like that was in a dive like this...well, it wasn't something one saw often. The other individual at the table was clearly anything but a Jedi, his nerf hide flight jacket and casual air not fitting the image of one connected to that ancient order. Nor did the twin blaster pistols strapped to his hips. No, that man was likely a spacer of some kind. Probably a criminal, if his eyes were any indication.

And yet, a casual observer could easily see the resemblance between the two men. While they were of different builds-the Jedi tall and powerfully muscled, the spacer a hands width shorter and heavier set-their facial features were of a similar structure. The same aquiline nose. The same strong jaw. The same emerald eyes and the same chocolate brown hair, though each man wore the latter differently, the Jedi's being fairly long, tied back in a loose tail, the spacer's being shorter and somewhat messier. They both even sported beards, the Jedi favoring a full, neatly trimmed one while the spacer wore a horseshoe mustache and a somewhat pointed goatee.

"I know Dad tried to help her," the spacer continued, taking another sip of his whiskey. "So did I, even though I was only five or so when it happened. But how in the Abyss do you tell a woman that her two year old son has to leave? That he has some pseudo-mystical power that could be dangerous unless he's 'properly' trained. That you won't be able to see him or even send letters to him. That all external contact will be cut off entirely. That it was for the best."

Captain Androvick Freesky shook his head as he emptied his glass. Glancing to the side, he motioned to a server droid, indicating that he wanted a refill before turning back to his companion. Eoben Freesky. Jedi Knight. Warrior of the Republic. Hell, the holonet had been calling him the Hero of Tython for over a month now. Evidently, he'd saved said world from some psychotic Darth named Angral, though the details were fuzzy. Classified actually, by the Republic. He supposed could ask his contacts for information. Maybe Darmas knew something. Later though.

What mattered was the here and now. Like how he was speaking to his baby brother for the first time in almost two decades.

The holocall had come completely out of nowhere. One minute he was on the _Skyrunner_ recouping after that clusterfuck on Balmorra-screw it, Darmas _owed_ him one for getting involved in that mess. Granted, it had netted him a new crew member, a _very_ lovely Zabrak. Sure, she was a Mandalorian and sure, she could likely snap him in half like a twig, but who didn't like warrior women? In any event, he was still considering his approach when Risha had told him about the call.

Apparently Eoben's new status as a genuine hero had allowed him some leeway. Namely access to sealed records regarding his family. Having been raised by the order, he'd always wondered about his family. About who they were and where they came from. About who he was. Was he just a Jedi Knight, or was he more than that? His search had come up with only one lead. An older brother. One with a...dubious legal record. But still, he was a connection to his past.

So here they were, sitting in a shifty cantina in one of Coruscant's seedier neighborhoods. Brothers.

"At least they let you keep your name," Androvick said, looking between his whiskey and the water his brother nursed. So he didn't drink. Right. Well, his loss. "I hear tell that the Jedi give their 'acquisitions' new ones."

"Primarily the orphans," Eoben responded, finding himself bristling at the implied insult to the order. "Those whom the Jedi cannot find information about their families. Also some of the older initiates choose their own, seeing it as a fresh start. But those of us who know of our backgrounds generally keep the names we were born with."

"Well that's good," Androvick said with a nod. Pausing, he took a sip, gathering his thoughts. "Freesky...it's more than just a name. It's...it's a promise in some ways. A vow to ourselves. That we'll always stay that way. Free. Free from tyranny. Free from those who would impose their will on us. That we would keep flying the lanes, living life by our rules."

"Is that why you're a smuggler?" Eoben asked, his tone fairly blunt and carrying some measure of disapproval.

Androvick snorted, a small smile coming to his face. "I prefer the term 'independent merchant' actually. But I guess the word smuggler works. Despite what they probably tell you in Jedi school, the galaxy isn't all black and white. Sure, there are extremes like you guys and the Sith. But in between, especially for us who can't use the Force, there's nothing but shades of grey. I consider myself falling under one of the lighter shades."

"And yet, I can feel the Force in you," Eoben said. "It's faint, but still stronger than it is in most people."

"Yeah, the Jedi told Dad that when he met with them about you," Androvick responded. "That he had it too, though like you said, it was faint and not enough to warrant training." He shrugged. "I figure it's what made our family so good at what we do. Piloting, navigating hyperspace, gun play. That sort of thing. But you were strong enough that it got their attention. Guess we were lucky we were in Republic space at the time and not the Empire. I can't exactly see you as a Sith Lord."

"Neither can I," Eoben said, allowing a faint smile before sobering. "How did they die? Mother and Father I mean. The records didn't say anything beyond their death certificates."

Androvick sighed, finishing his drink in one gulp. He didn't even have to motion to the server. The glass was refilled without a word. "We were out on the Rim, a few parsecs out from Gyndine when Mom took ill. Some virus she'd contracted in Hutt space. The doctors we took her to did all they could, but well, it was just her time I guess. I dunno."

He paused, taking a sip from his whiskey. "I was twelve at the time. Dad, well, as you can expect, didn't take it all that well. He kept a strong front, but you could tell. He focused on training me. Made sure I knew the ins and outs of the life. When I was sixteen, he told me that he was retiring. Our family had a small property outside of Doaba Guerfel on Corellia, in the Nomad Mountains. He gave me the command codes for the _Skyrunner_, and that was it. He passed on less than a year later. That was...grife, eleven years ago next Strizaak." He shook his head, his expression clouded as he stared at the alcohol in front of them.

"I'm sorry," Eoben said softly, his tone meaning it. "I wish I'd known them. If it's any small comfort, they're part of the Force now."

"Right," Androvick said, snorting in spite of himself. "Y'know, they never stopped loving you. Mom would always talk about you. We'd celebrate your birthday every year and wonder. What you were doing. If you were happy. Times were where I really hated the Jedi for what they'd done. What they had done to our family and every other family who'd been through the same thing as us. And before you start preaching, it's okay. Gave up on that hate a while back after I saw my first Sith. I was in Imp space on a cargo run. A _legit_ cargo run, believe it or not. Long story. Anyway, I saw what you might've become if it weren't for the Order. Put things in perspective."

"Indeed," Eoben responded simply, the duo falling into a companionable silence.


End file.
